


Don't Let Him Deceive You

by Katy133



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Body shaming from the series referenced, Canon Divergent - Good Omens (TV), Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Demonic Possession, Gabriel is a jerk (Good Omens), Gaslighting, Hurt/Comfort, Illustrations, M/M, Or rather angelic possession, POV Alternating, POV Third Person, Rescue, Set just before Armageddon Week, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), fun with footnotes, set in 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:42:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22219498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katy133/pseuds/Katy133
Summary: Gabriel examined himself in the mirror. Bowtie, light hair in short curls. A camel hair coat.Yes, he thought. He could work with this.What if Gabriel used one of Aziraphale's spare corporations to get to Crowley?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 37
Kudos: 231
Collections: Good Omens Big Bang 2019





	1. Gabriel POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to HusbandoGoddess for beta reading this fic. Her [Twitch Channel](https://www.twitch.tv/husbandogoddess) | And her [Twitter](https://twitter.com/HusbandoGoddess).
> 
> Basically, I kept waiting for someone else to do this idea, but I never found a fic that did this idea exactly how I pictured it (my ability to search through AO3's tags might just be non-par), so... sometimes, you just have to do it yourself.
> 
> Made for the Good Omens Big Bang 2019.
> 
> Illustrations by [FluffleDuffel](https://doodlesoffandomsandtrash.tumblr.com/) and [Mistical52](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistical52) (also on [Tumblr](https://misti-art.tumblr.com/)). Additional illustrations by Katy133.

_SUNDAY - 6 Days Till Armageddon_

Gabriel stood in the bookshop, looking down at the Principality, Aziraphale.

"How's your little pet project with raising the Antichrist going?" smiled Gabriel. The Archangel had dropped by for a visit. A kind of one-on-one boardroom meeting, but without the boardroom.

"Um. Well, it's been going very well. Very well indeed. I've been helping to influence him to the side of good. He's been growing up well. He's really taking an interest in art. For school, he's started drawing--"

"Yes, yes. Fine," said Gabriel quickly, flicking his wrist up. "I don't need a whole _thing_ about it."

"Oh," said Aziraphale quietly, glancing down at his hands laced together. "Right."

Gabriel patted Aziraphale on the shoulder, smiling broadly. Aziraphale reacted to the pat as if it was too hard.

Gabriel failed to notice. "Next point on the agenda. How much have you been practising with sword fighting?"

"Sword fighting? Uh, well. What with one thing and another... With the pace of modern life being what it is--"

"Good to hear it!" said Gabriel without much concentration, picturing Aziraphale and himself clad in their uniforms. "I'm sure your platoon will be happy to hear you've been training."

Aziraphale smiled weakly, but said nothing.

"Keep fighting the good fight," smiled Gabriel. "Are you sure you don't want to come back with me to visit Heaven? You could re-watch _The Sound of Music_."

"I'm... quite sure, thank you. I've... got so much to do here." He gestured to the clutter of material objects that were in the back room of his shop. Books.

"Alright then."

Gabriel walked out.

* * *

The penthouse of the skyscraper, Heaven, was vast, white, and clean. To Gabriel, it was perfect.

He didn't understand why Aziraphale never seemed to want to visit.

The giant model of the Earth, suspended a foot above the floor, continued to rotate. Gabriel smiled. Soon, Heaven would win.

The Archangel sat in his office chair. Like all executive chairs,[1] it had padded armrests. Like all chairs in Heaven, it was a light grey.

But before he could do anything else, a line of angels entered the room. It was Michael, followed by Uriel, followed by Sandalphon.

Michael spoke. "We have something we need to discuss. It seems..." There was concern in her voice. "It's about Aziraphale."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "What's this about?"

Michael gingerly pulled out a manila folder as if it would blow up. Which, metaphorically-speaking, it was just about to.

* * *

There were photos.

Lots of photos. Spanning the course of several centuries.

Aziraphale and the demon, Crowley, apparently had not only spotted each other on Earth, but had been having secret meetings with each other. Frequently. _Behind Gabriel's back._

It was like each of the photos told a story, complete with their own titles. _Talking in front of Aziraphale's bookshop_ , circa 1862. _Eating crepes_ , Paris, circa 1793. _At the Globe Theatre_ , circa 1601. _Sharing date-palm lemongrass cocktails at Gomorrah_ , circa 1897 B.C.[2] _Watching the construction of Noah's Arc_ , circa 3004 B.C...

And on _and on._ The whole thing looked like a series of candid paparazzi shots.[3]

Why hadn't he been informed? Why hadn't this been mentioned in any of Aziraphale's reports? What on Earth was going on?

As he held up one of the photos, he realised that his hands were shaking. The other three archangels were standing behind him, watching. Gabriel quickly put the photo back down.[4]

"I'm sure there's a perfectly... innocent explanation." Gabriel started re-arranging the photos on the desk, as if doing so would reveal one.

He started to try and think of a righteous reason for these photos. Which was difficult, since he had no imagination.

Was Aziraphale merely _pretending_ to consort with the demon?

"I'll deal with this, Michael," said Gabriel, making his voice light and smooth and in control, "There's no need for you to investigate this further."

Michael, Uriel, and Sandalphon nodded and walked out of the office. Gabriel stood in front of the desk, with the photos still there, for a considerable time. Eventually, he walked over to one of the walls to look out the window. His expression became marked. Like a dark cloud had descended.

The skyscraper had a magnificent view of planet Earth. Through the wall windows, one could see the Eiffel Tower, the Great Pyramids, the Washington State Capitol, and, whether you wanted to or not, the Gherkin.

He didn't care about the view. He never cared about the view. Except as a domain to conquest.

 _The Sound of Music_ gently played in the background.[5]

_"I hate to have to say it,"_   
_"But I very firmly feel,"_   
_"Maria's not an asset to the abbey."_   
_"I'd like to say a word in her behalf."_

Aziraphale was too simple to turn against Heaven willingly. Aziraphale wouldn't _dare._

Perhaps he was trying to squeeze information out of the demon? By pretending to warm up to him? To act as a double agent for Heaven? If so, then why wasn't Gabriel told about it?

It must have been the demon's fault. Yes. He had something as a bargaining chip and was using it against the Principality. Blackmail perhaps? But _what?_ Gabriel needed to get to the bottom of this, and for that, he'd have to go to the source of the matter: Aziraphale.

_"How do you solve a problem like Maria?"_   
_"How do you catch a cloud and pin it down?"_

Gabriel sunk in his chair.

 _How do you solve a problem like Aziraphale?_ thought Gabriel.

_"Many a thing you know you'd like to tell her."_   
_"Many a thing she ought to understand,"_   
_"But how do you make her stay?"_   
_"And listen to all you say,"_   
_"How…?"_

Gabriel gathered up the photos, placing them in his coat pocket.

He stepped out.

* * *

Gabriel adjusted his light scarf. He walked up the front steps of the bookshop.

Aziraphale would be able to explain it all to him, decided Gabriel. And then everything would be back to normal. Back on track, just before the beginning of the End of the World.

He entered the threshold of the bookshop.

Aziraphale was next to a shelf, re-arranging some of his material objects. Books. _So many_ books. _What was the point?_

The angel didn't stop arranging books, but he had heard the shop's bell, because he started speaking. "You're early! Let me just get my--" he turned and saw Gabriel. "Oh..." He seemed to deflate. "Ah! Gabriel! Visiting again already?"

"Yes," he said, breaking eye contact to absently fiddle with a stack of books on a table. "I'm... just here to set the record straight on something. One _little_ thing..."

"Yes?" asked Aziraphale, as if he already knew it wasn't a little thing. Little things were never important enough for Gabriel.

Gabriel looked at the rows of material objects. So many things. So much clutter. So many owned goods that he _didn't need_ as an angel. Perhaps Aziraphale _was_ in danger of Falling.

He turned back to Aziraphale, deciding to get right to the point.

"Have you betrayed Heaven by working for the demon Crowley?"

Aziraphale, for the briefest of moments, looked like he was about to shatter. It was not the reaction Gabriel had expected.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about. What makes you think that?"

Without another word, Gabriel walked a few steps to Aziraphale's front desk, pulled out the photos, and tossed them down.

If they had been in a noir film, the Archangel couldn't have done a better job of dramatically throwing them upon the table.

"Michael found some rather _damning_ evidence," said Gabriel, looking at Aziraphale for a reaction.

Aziraphale's eyes widened. He scanned the display. As if he had found something that he had been looking for, he looked back up at Gabriel, the Principality's eyes filled with new courage.

"Very well. Yes. I spoke to Crowley from time to time," he said through gritted teeth. "But I have not betrayed Heaven. These photos don't prove otherwise."

"You. _Lied_. To me," said Gabriel darkly.

Aziraphale seemed to shrink. He glanced at his shoes. "I... may have omitted a few details in my reports..."

"Like sleeping with the Enemy? In every sense of the word?"

Aziraphale glanced up at that. His brow furrowed. "That's not true."

"Why should I believe anything you say from this point on?"

"We don't have that kind of relationship," said Aziraphale firmly.

"I was _joking_." Gabriel gave the angel a look as if it was the most obvious joke in the world. It was really hard not to poke fun at Aziraphale. He made it too easy. "Unless..."

"Don't, Gabriel."

" _Unless_ , you've developed feelings?" He couldn't even say it with a straight face. "Are you _Falling_ for him?" he chuckled. A demon and an angel. Night and day. Fire and water. The very idea made him laugh.

But then he saw Aziraphale's face.

Aziraphale looked away, silent. _Hesitating_. Why...?

The sides of Aziraphale's ears turned pink.

Gabriel froze. Something that rarely happened. He was an Archangel. When problems arose, things fell to _him_. He always had to be in control.

He did not feel in control here.

He stared at the angel. "You..."

_"Eager young lads, and rogues, and cads,"_   
_"Will offer you food and wine,"_   
_"Totally unprepared are you,"_   
_"To face a world of men."_

Gabriel tensed up, balling his fists and raising his shoulders. "And _him_..."

No. _No._ It wasn't true. It _couldn't_ be true.

The demon Crowley had managed to corrupt an angel. A Principality no less.

Gabriel needed to fix this.

The Archangel considered things. Aziraphale had just said that it wasn't that kind of relationship. Which meant that nothing had happened further than clandestine, secret meetings...

But what if he was _lying?_

Finally, Aziraphale spoke up. "I'm an angel. I'm a being of love." His voice was fragile. "I'm meant to love all humans, all creatures great and small, all beings--"

"Not _demons_. None of _us_ love demons."

"I'm... I'm not asking Heaven to _entirely restructure things_. Maybe make an exception? Like how diplomats get different treatment on flights?" Aziraphale was skating on thin ice. "He's... He's _deserving_ of love. I could vouch for that," said Aziraphale, clasping his hands together. "He has a _kind_ side to him. A spark of--"

"Ha!" Gabriel shook his head. He should have known. "He's just acting nice so that you like him. He's been _using_ you."

"I assure you, he's been genuine."

Gabriel tilted his head in consideration. "What did he get out of your fraternising? Did you look the other way when he followed his demonic plans? Exactly how naïve were you?"

Aziraphale closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if it was _him_ who needed it, not Gabriel. "It may be difficult for you to understand this, Gabriel. But sometimes, people do Good simply for the sake of it. Not to _get_ something."

The song continued playing in the Archangel's mind.

_"Timid and shy and scared are you,"_   
_"Of things beyond your ken."_   
_"You need someone older and wiser,"_   
_"Telling you what to do."_   
_"I'll take care of you."_

"Aziraphale, I understand. He's confused you." Gabriel placed a hand on the angel's shoulder. "He's trying to poison you. Corrupt you. He's been trying to seduce you to _their_ side."[6]

"No, he hasn't. He _really_ hasn't," said Aziraphale, backing away from Gabriel's touch.

"You just need to spend some time away from him. That's all," said Gabriel gently. "Then you'll realise that I'm right."

Aziraphale pulled himself together, raising his voice. "I don't need a holiday! I'm fine. I'm still working on Heaven's side."

"Aziraphale, I'm not angry. You've been on Earth for six thousand years. Since the Beginning. It's perfectly understandable that you went looking for someone to talk to. You should have come to me. I think spending all that time among humans has made you a little gullible."

Aziraphale gave him a look. One that Gabriel couldn't identify. Defiance? Anger? Hatred?

"I'm _not_ gulli--"

Gabriel cut him off because he knew there was nothing the angel was going to say that was worth listening to. "Don't let him deceive you. The demon is just stringing you along."

"Gabriel--"

"Think. About. It. Why would he like _you?_ "

Aziraphale didn't respond. He just stood there, stone-faced. That same unfamiliar, unidentifiable expression. So Gabriel continued.

"Let's say for the sake of argument that you're right about the demon not wanting anything from you in return for your little meetings. You'd be wrong, but let us assume. Let's also say that he does indeed keep coming back to see you. That it's not just _you_ going to him. You think that's proof that he likes you? No, no," Gabriel waggled a finger as he began to pace. It was an almost comical motion. The whole situation was comical. "That's not it. He keeps coming back to you because he has _no other alternative_."

Aziraphale arched an eyebrow, the cogs moving in his head. Gabriel kept on.

"The two of you are Heaven and Hell's foot soldiers, respectively. You two are the only angel and demon stationed on Earth. For thousands of years. Empires rose and fell. If he wanted to see a familiar face, yours was the only option, enemy or not. Him, _liking_ you? Please. It wasn't because you were outstanding, Aziraphale. It was because you were _there_."

There. That got a reaction.

"I... He..." Aziraphale looked like a man who was having a crisis of faith.

_"I have confidence,"_   
_"The world can all be mine!"_   
_"They'll have to agree."_

Gabriel wasn't properly listening at this point. He had reached a conclusion. Now all that was left was figuring out the details. "A break is what you need, Aziraphale. Now... where to place you..." He tapped his fingers against his chin in thought. "Oh. How about America? That's an ocean away! I heard Arizona is lovely this time of year."

"Wait, please!" There was desperation in his voice. Which was silly, but that was Aziraphale for you. Never quite following Gabriel's line of thinking as quickly as he should. "Armageddon is in less than a week!"

"This will just be temporary, Aziraphale," said Gabriel, putting reassurance into his voice. "I just need to take care of this demon for you. Don't thank me. I'm only too happy to help you."

"But--"

"Or are you afraid I'll be stealing your thunder?" chuckled Gabriel. "No need to worry. You'll have plenty of other demons to thwart when the time comes. You've already done commendable work."

"Gabriel--!"

Gabriel snapped his fingers. A bolt of lightning struck the floor of the bookshop. It vanished. So did Aziraphale.

Well. That was that then.

Gabriel adjusted his turtleneck, and walked towards the hallway.

He had a plan.

* * *

Heaven had an entire _storeroom_ of Azriaphales.

Or rather, they had an entire storeroom of corporations _for_ Aziraphale.

It was in case Aziraphale was an idiot and got his current body killed. Fortunately, he had managed to keep his first corporation for the last six thousand years.

Gabriel looked off into the distance, at the legion of still, standing bodies that seemed to go into the horizon. Not all the lights had been turned on, so the very back of the lineup simply disappeared into the darkness that was the back of the storeroom.

Gabriel cast his gaze to the front row of bodies that stood closest to him. Each corporation stood straight as an arrow, eyes closed and lifeless.

Each body in the frontmost lineup looked exactly the same as the current Aziraphale. Complete with his current attire.

With each new row, the bodies looked more and more different as they went farther and farther, diversifying and changing in appearance. If one looked far enough, they would eventually find corporations that were female.

But Gabriel wasn't interested in those. He needed one of the ones in the front row for his plan to work.

Gabriel walked closer, his copper shoes going _click-clack_ on the tiled floor, the tiny sound echoing through the infinite room.

He went up to one of the Michael Sheen-shaped bodies, inspecting it.[7] With a thumb, he pried open one of the eyelids of the body. Blue. It looked exactly like Aziraphale's current body. _Perfect._

It was not the body _Gabriel_ would have picked[8] but for his current purposes, it fit the bill.

Normally, it would take an awful lot of paperwork to acquire a new corporation. It was a process that could take years. But that was one of the perks of being an Archangel.

Gabriel stepped into the body, leaving his old one behind.

* * *

Aziraphale, or rather, Gabriel _as Aziraphale_ , entered A.Z. Fell and Co. Books. Because that was the sort of thing Aziraphale would do.

Gabriel passed by the displays of material objects--Books. They were called _books_. He needed to remember that.

He glanced at a shelf and adjusted one of the books. Because he felt that that was something Aziraphale would do.[9]

When he was done with that, he walked past the umbrella stand. There was an antique cheval mirror next to Aziraphale's coat stand. When it came to human inventions, clothes were one of the few things Gabriel liked, so he let this display of vanity on Aziraphale's part slide just this once.

Gabriel examined himself in the mirror. Bowtie, light hair in short curls. A camel hair coat. _Yes_ , he thought. He could work with this.

It was strange seeing the world from such a low angle though. He was used to being taller.

He looked at Aziraphale's middle through the reflection. _He really should have lost the gut._

_Ring-ring..._

The metallic ringing was followed by the sound of a door shutting. Gabriel had entered the bookshop enough times to recognise it as the front entrance.

What looked to be a thin man in a black suit entered into view. He was wearing sunglasses.

"Hello, Aziraphale!"

There he was. The serpent. The cause of all this. Standing right in front of him.

He would pay.

And the way he just waltzed _right in_ , like he owned the place. So familiar. So conceited.

It took a great deal of strength to not show his disgust at the demon's arrogance. Instead, he had to grin and bear it.

 _You're Aziraphale. Remember that,_ thought Gabriel, reciting it like a mantra. _You're Aziraphale. Just act how he would act._

He would defeat the demon once he found the opportune moment. In the meantime, he'd have to bide his time.

He came prepared. He was armed. The weapon was concealed, despite it being too big to fit in a pocket.

"How have you been?" asked the demon. He was all smiles. The fiend. Trying to lull Aziraphale into a false sense of security.

"Very well," said Gabriel as Aziraphale, trying not to say it coldly.

The demon paused, as if he was waiting for more. Nothing came, so he continued.

"That's good," said the Enemy, walking around Aziraphale's corporation, his hands in his pockets. Gabriel flinched ever so slightly. _Like a snake circling its prey,_ thought Gabriel.

"Fancy coming with me to the Victoria and Albert Museum?" said the Fallen One. He gave a shrug of his shoulder, as if this was the most casual thing in the world.

Gabriel thought for a moment. _What would Aziraphale say in this situation?_ "Certainly!"

Crowley grinned.

They walked out of the bookshop. The demon's black chariot was waiting outside for them. Gabriel smiled.

* * *

**Footnotes:**

> 1 Footnote: Except for the executive chairs at Industrial Holding (Holdings) Incorporated PLC. Which didn't include arm rests due to budgeting issues. [ return to text ]
> 
> 2 Footnote: Assumedly, this photo had been taken _before_ Sandalphon arrived to check up on Gomorrah. [ return to text ]
> 
> 3 Footnote: Specifically, the kind that lead to scandals people would reference years later with the word "Gate" attached to it. But Gabriel refused to believe that AziraGate was true. [ return to text ]
> 
> 4 Footnote: The photo in question was of Aziraphale and the demon sitting side by side on a bench in St. James's Park, circa 2008. They were feeding the ducks. [ return to text ]
> 
> 5 Footnote: God played The Sound of Music on repeat in Heaven. Gabriel believed that this was because She really liked the musical and that it was humanity's greatest accomplishment. Gabriel had allowed himself to memorise the entire play, word-for-word, note-by-note. It got to the point where he could _hear_ the soundtrack in his head even when he was on Earth.
> 
> Unfortunately, unlike Aziraphale, Gabriel had utterly failed to understand what the film was actually about. Indeed, he knew what the film was _about_ , the same way that a person can say that the Tortoise and the Hare was about animals. But he never clicked on what the film was _actually about._ Only that it had singing and a lot of nuns. I would need to replay _The Sound of Music_ in Heaven many more times before Gabriel would finally understand it.
> 
> Sometimes, a story about a tortoise and a hare has nothing to do with neither tortoises, nor hares. [ return to text ]
> 
> 6 Footnote: Little did Gabriel know that Crowley's idea of an unspeakable intimacy with Aziraphale would be holding his hand, caressing the angel's face, giving him a _kiss_ , or perhaps even _cuddling_ him while watching television. [ return to text ]
> 
> 7 Footnote: It was rather inaccurate to describe Aziraphale's corporation as resembling Welsh actor Michael Sheen, considering Aziraphale came to Earth first. By about six thousand years.
> 
> Really, Michael Sheen ought to have been described as _Aziraphale-shaped_. [ return to text ]
> 
> 8 Footnote: Quite literally. Like Aziraphale, Gabriel got to pick his corporation for when he visited Earth. And Gabriel could quite clearly see the differences between them: Aziraphale was three inches shorter. Blue eyes instead of violet. Light hair instead of brown.
> 
> But Gabriel was a forgiving Archangel, he told himself. So long as Aziraphale did his job, there was nothing to really complain about. Nothing worth becoming a Fallen angel for, anyway. [ return to text ]
> 
> 9 Footnote: To be precise, he moved a volume of _The Jeeves & Wooster Omnibus_ forty-three degrees to the right, so that it was slightly more parallel to the other books underneath it. But not exactly parallel, because Gabriel--although an angel who strived for constant perfection--knew that humans were flawed. And Aziraphale certainly tried to blend in with humans. [ return to text ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read and review? Please do! I love getting comments.
> 
> I discovered through writing this fic that I really enjoy writing from Gabriel's point-of-view. He's a different kind of unreliable narrator from what I'm more used to writing. Anyway, the next chapter is in Crowley's POV.
> 
> Title is based on a line from Mother Knows Best (Reprised) song from Disney's _Tangled_.
> 
> Illustrations by Katy133: [Title Card](https://www.deviantart.com/katy133/art/Don-t-Let-Him-Deceive-You-Fic-824881163) | [Warehouse of Aziraphales](https://www.deviantart.com/katy133/art/Chapter-1-Warehouse-of-Aziraphales-827227651)  
> (Can you spot the Mark Heap--aka, RadioDrama!Aziraphale--cameo in the warehouse?)  
> Illustrations by FluffleDuffel: [Falling for Him](https://www.deviantart.com/unseenrangergal/art/GOBB-Falling-for-Him-827029873) | [The Serpent Enters](https://www.deviantart.com/unseenrangergal/art/GOBB-The-Serpent-Enters-827028772)


	2. Crowley POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for any comments. Hope you enjoy this chapter. I ended up doing quite a bit of museum and art research for this bit. XD

Crowley closed the passenger door for Aziraphale once the angel climbed in.

Turning on the ignition, they drove off.

The passenger and driver's windows showed a blur of London. The comforting architecture of Soho and Chinatown faded into Mayfare's tall, expensive, off-white buildings. The route Crowley was taking contained tolls, but he didn't pay any of them. To Crowley, tolls were just things that happened to other people.

After a while, Crowley spoke.

"Did you notice that I removed the _stickers?_ " said Crowley proudly.[10] "I thought, 'Well, I've been changing my look from time to time, why not with the Bentley?' I still have them, for old-time's sake, but... I thought I'd try a change."

Aziraphale looked like he was doing some sort of difficult mathematical equation in his head.

"Yes, this chariot looks in... surprisingly well-kept condition."

Crowley blinked. "'Chariot?' Did you just call her a _chariot?_ "

Aziraphale made a "I made a mistake" face. Not his usual "Oh dear, I think I'm in trouble" face. This one was different.

Crowley sighed. "Nevermind. I'll put on some music." He flipped on the CD player.

Despite himself, he had rather hoped for a more positive reaction from the angel.

The Bentley zoomed in front of another car--a blue Corvette Stingray--and left it in the dust.

Crowley gripped his steering wheel tighter, knuckles losing colour. He had been noticing that something was _off_ about Aziraphale.

Aziraphale hadn't said that anything was wrong, but Crowley could tell. It was the subtle things he had learnt over the years. Little tells. The angel had been fine yesterday evening when he had arranged for them to meet at his bookshop. But today...

He looked over at his counterpart. When Aziraphale noticed, he gave him a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Had Crowley forgotten something important? The anniversary of the Arrangement? No, that wasn't until several months. The anniversary of the opening of Aziraphale's bookshop? No, Crowley had already given Aziraphale that _Jeeves & Wooster Omnibus_ earlier in the year to celebrate it. Aziraphale's birthday? But they were both Libras...

Had Crowley done something wrong? Well, he was meant to do demonic things. Helping to influence the invention of quiz shows. Gluing coins onto the sidewalk. Stopping the Wi-Fi in West London during peak business hours. But those were all things that didn't affect Aziraphale.

Crowley decided to take the scenic route past St. James's Park. He wanted Aziraphale to enjoy the ride.

Freddie Mercury began to sing.

_"Ooh, love. Ooh, loverboy... What'cha doin' tonight..."_

Aziraphale seemed to be looking curiously at the radio, like he didn't know what a dashboard was.

_"Driving back in style, in my saloon, will do quite nicely,"_   
_"Just take me back to yours, that will be fine..."_

"I can turn it off if you want," offered Crowley.

Aziraphale kept his eyes glued onto the dashboard, his voice unconvincing. "Um. No, no. I like it."

Crowley almost drove the Bentley off the road. He spun his head to look at Aziraphale. "What?!"

"Don't I _usually_ like your music?"

"Um, _no?_ "

"Oh. Erm..."

He got quiet for a moment. He looked the other way, towards the passenger window. Not to look at the view, but to break eye contact.

Yep. Something was definitely off about Aziraphale today.

* * *

The Victoria and Albert Museum was having a quiet day. There were less art critics, tourists, and MI5 agents doing covert suitcase handoffs walking around, so Crowley and Aziraphale could walk through the exhibits without having to wait for crowds to leave.

Crowley brought Aziraphale to look at a new addition to the museum--A statue of the Archangel Raphael. It was made of something that looked like copper, but had been sculpted as if it were clay. The Archangel had flowing robes, long hair that fell to his shoulders in curls, and stood balanced atop a giant egg. He was entwined with snakes, his wings outstretched, resembling the staff of Hermes.[11]

Raphael the Healer. The Protector of Travellers. And the Fourth Archangel.

Raphael was sadly no more--he had disappeared after the First Battle between Heaven and Hell--but Crowley was glad that Aziraphale always looked at artwork of Raphael with a kind, soft, almost _knowing_ expression.[12]

Except that he _wasn't_. He _usually_ did, but not today.

Aziraphale was currently regarding the statue as if it were an advertisement for an espresso. He was _looking_ , but he wasn't _seeing_.

 _Oh no,_ thought Crowley. _He really is upset with me._

* * *

Crowley and Aziraphale had finished looking at the Renaissance paintings--the majority of which had been met with apathy by the angel--and had moved on to the statue display room with the giant skylight that lit up the entire space.

Crowley showed his counterpart to a statue he knew Aziraphale would react to. An angel struggling with a python.[13]

"What do you think of this?" asked Crowley, gesturing theatrically with his arms, as if Aziraphale had just won the statue.

"It's great," said Aziraphale, without much vigour. It wasn't even how he usually described things. Not _Jolly good_ , or _Tickety-boo_ , but _Great_.

Crowley deflated. He'd had enough at this point. He needed to confront things.

"I give up," said the demon, throwing his hands up. "What's wrong? What do you think I did? What's the misunderstanding? Or what _did_ I do?"

"Uh, nothing's wrong--"[14]

"Don't," said Crowley, hurt. "Ever since the car ride, you've been acting strangely." He quieted his voice, a sense of relief from finally confronting this. "Come on, what's up?"

Aziraphale was silent for a few moments.[15]

"Well, _angel_ ," said Aziraphale, suddenly smiling, "maybe I'm upset that you haven't tried holding my hand today?"

Crowley's eyebrows shot up. His sunglasses almost slid off.

"Uh... Urk! What?" They were still in a museum, so Crowley tried to keep his voice calm.

"You heard me."

Aziraphale stood to the demon's side and offered his hand out. Crowley slowly took it, curling his pinky around Aziraphale's, followed by the other fingers, entwining them.

They were holding hands. Six thousand years, and they were holding hands.

They stood there for a moment. The museum's light piano music continued playing softly over the speakers, and in this calm moment, Crowley felt happy. Perfect and happy.

 _This_ must have been why Aziraphale had been acting so strangely! He wanted to _hold his hand_. And he wasn't sure how the demon would react. Crowley felt like an enchantment was being cast over him.

He was _besotted_.

He was so besotted, he ignored the ugly gut feeling that sat in the centre of his core.

"Shall we go to the Garden Café?" asked Crowley, the wind knocked out of him.[16]

"I'd like to go somewhere more private," said Aziraphale. "Just the two of us."

"Want me to drive you back to your place?" said Crowley.

"Actually," said Aziraphale, his voice lowering, "I was thinking you could transport me back _your_ place of residence."

Crowley's eyes widened.

* * *

Crowley, on their way to his flat, decided to turn on the radio instead of the CD player for the ride.

The Bentley began to play Run For Your Life by the Beatles.[17]

_"Well, you know that I'm a wicked guy,"_   
_"And I was born with a jealous mind."_

"So..." said Crowley slowly. "You've decided to take up my invite to see my place." He had invited Aziraphale years ago, but the angel had politely declined. "May I ask what changed your mind?"

"Do I need a reason?"

Answering a question with a question. Crowley shrugged, his eyes on the road.

_"Let this be a sermon,"_   
_"I mean everything I've said."_   
_"Baby, I'm determined,"_   
_"And I'd rather see you dead."_

"And... what would you like to do once we get there?"

Aziraphale smiled. "I'm sure you'll think of something we can do there."

Crowley wanted to watch a Bond film while they were sitting very close to each other on the sofa, but he wanted to know if Aziraphale was agreeable with that.

The demon swerved the Bentley to avoid a hedgehog.

Crowley could hardly believe it. Aziraphale had called him _angel_. And now he was taking Aziraphale back to his place...

_"I'd rather see you dead, little girl,"_   
_"Than to be with another man."_   
_"You better keep your head, little girl,"_   
_"Or I won't know where I am."_

... And during _the one time_ it made perfect sense, the Bentley _wasn't_ playing Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy.

* * *

The flat in question was located in Mayfare, which was within walking distance to the Ritz. In fact, it was literally across the street. This was not by accident.

Aziraphale had never set foot in Crowley's flat. Had never crossed the threshold. Had never so much as seen a mug of the place.

Crowley never referred to it as a home. It wasn't one. It was just a place where Crowley slept and kept some of his things that didn't fit in the Bentley.

The demon shrugged off his jacket and offered to take the angel's coat. Crowley carefully placed them both onto coat hangers in the closet by the door.

Crowley took Aziraphale's arm. The angel seemed to flinch, but Crowley was sure that was because they were both crossing unfamiliar territory.

"I'll show you around the place. Give you the guided tour," grinned Crowley.

They passed the statue down the hallway. The one of an angel and demon wrestling, circa third century, B.C.[18] Fortunately, Aziraphale made no comment about it.

They passed Crowley's houseplants. Different varieties of _Philodendron_ of various shapes and sizes filled the room. They were bright, and vibrant, and beautiful, and magnificent.

Aziraphale regarded them coldly.

"Remind you of anywhere?" asked Crowley proudly.

"Outside?" asked Aziraphale.

"Anyplace _else?_ " asked Crowley. He really wished he didn't care this much about whether Aziraphale could answer this.[19]

"No," said Aziraphale.

Crowley's face fell. Oh well.

Despite already feeling quite vulnerable, Crowley took off his sunglasses, discarding them on a side table. The same yellow eyes, with snakelike slits. But there was a different reaction from Aziraphale. For a fraction of a second, Crowley saw something like surprised disgust in Aziraphale's eyes. A blink later, and the expression was gone. Something inside Crowley began to hurt.

He took Aziraphale to another room. They got to go through the "secret" revolving door that had been installed in the flat.[20]

"And here's the sofa," Crowley gestured to the white, expensive-looking upholstery. "There's also a screen if you want to watch telly." He motioned to one of the flat screen televisions.

Crowley had started getting very anxious. He loved Aziraphale, but there was so much that had been left unsaid that he wondered if he could provide everything the angel wanted.

Aziraphale had asked him to take him to the flat. Something that had _never_ happened before. So was it because Aziraphale wanted to see the living room, or was it because he wanted to see the bedroom? Did Aziraphale want to have one of Those Nights?

Crowley wasn't sure if he could give something like That. Even to Aziraphale. He would prefer a cuddle.

"Can I get you anything?" offered Crowley. "Wine? Cake? Sushi? My fridge is fully stocked."

The angel's nose creased at this.

"No," said Aziraphale. "I don't sully my corporeal body with gross matter."

That was when Crowley realised that something was Very Wrong.

His mind was thrown back to one late evening in Aziraphale's bookshop. They had been drinking. And as the wine had made their minds swim, Aziraphale started complaining about something.

_"I was still in the restaurant, so I offered him some tea. And do you know what he said?" Aziraphale had to adjust himself in the armchair so as not to lose the wine glass. "He said, 'I don't sully the temple of my body with gross matter.' Can you believe that?"_

_"He sounds like a prick," said Crowley through slurred speech._

That someone Aziraphale had been complaining about was Gabriel. Aziraphale's boss.

Crowley's eyes went wide as he froze. He had turned away from the impostor when he had gestured towards the kitchen. His expression of epiphany hidden. But he'd have to turn around at look at Gabriel _eventually_...

Could he get out of this? Why was an Archangel here? _Where was Aziraphale?_

He had time. He just needed a plan. Perhaps if he could get Gabriel's attention to something else... If he could distract him long enough, Crowley could freeze time...

But too late, too late.

"Is something wrong, angel?" It was Aziraphale's voice, and yet it also wasn't. There was a smiling, patronising, _cutting_ tone to it. Crowley felt like a fool. How could he have mistaken this for Aziraphale?

"Ngk. Uh, nothing's wrong."

"Then why won't you look at me?"

_Distraction... distraction... distraction..._

Crowley considered his options. Say that there was something he needed to get outside? Throw a chair through the window? Set himself on fire? Talk about the latest rumours about the next James Bond film? Say that--

Something cold grabbed the back of Crowley's neck and _tightened_.

It wasn't a hand. It felt metallic. It was all around his throat and he was gasping for breath.

Crowley tilted his head back, arching his spine. It was like he was being lifted up by his neck, the force pushing him up until only the toes of his snakeskin shoes touched the floor.

The demon strained his head to look behind him. It was Aziraphale but _wrong_. There was a cruel smile. The angel was holding a white rod that forked out at one end. The end that had Crowley in its grasp.

It was a snake catcher.

It was constricting his throat. It was quite literally sucking the life out of him.

The demon struggled, flailing his arms, trying to pull the rod off his neck, but it was stuck fast. His legs felt like there were lead weights attached to them.

His flailing started to slow. Gabriel silently watched. Wearing the face of Crowley's counterpart.

The demon's visioned darkened. He saw stars behind his eyelids.

They say that if you want to trap a snake, you use a forked stick and pin it around the serpent's neck.

This was essentially what Gabriel had done.

Crowley's last thoughts were of Aziraphale as he blacked out.

* * *

**Footnotes:**

> 10 Footnote: Crowley, being a fan of James Bond, bought bullet-hole-in-the-windscreen-transfer stickers, back in 1967. Well, by "bought," he actually got them free with purchasing petrol. [ return to text ]
> 
> 11 Footnote: The piece had been created by the artist James Muir. It was temporarily moved from the Goldenstein Gallery in Sedona, Arizona to London's Victoria and Albert Museum. [ return to text ]
> 
> 12 Footnote: Crowley was also glad that Aziraphale never asked too many questions about what Crowley was like as an angel. Leave the past buried in the past. [ return to text ]
> 
> 13 Footnote: The statuette was sculpted by British artist Lord Frederic Leighton, in 1874. No one was quite sure what the exact inspiration was for this piece, but snakes being with angels had been a motif in art for quite a while, spanning across history, artists, and mediums. One had to wonder just who had inspired the very first example of it. [ return to text ]
> 
> 14 Footnote: By this point, besides the Great Plan, Gabriel's only faith, creed, and mantra was, _Pretend to be Aziraphale, pretend to be Aziraphale, pretend to be Aziraphale..._ [ return to text ]
> 
> 15 Footnote: Gabriel had reached full crisis mode. He came to the conclusion that Aziraphale's relationship with the demon was something _different_ than simply agreeing with whatever the fiend said or showed him.
> 
> The Archangel had been bored out of his mind in the museum, but he really had been trying to fake an interest.
> 
> Alright, so simply being agreeable was not how the first Tempter saw Aziraphale. How close had they gotten then?
> 
> _"We don't have that kind of relationship,"_ Aziraphale had said. But what if he had been lying?
> 
> It was risky, but Gabriel decided that he would need to change tactics. If the snake had attempted to seduce Aziraphale, he would need to act accordingly. He'd do it in small steps.
> 
> He struggled to find a suitable pet name for the fiend in human shape that stood in front of him. _What would Aziraphale use?_
> 
> Readers of _The Nice and Accurate Prophecies_ by Agnes Nutter will know that the correct answer was "my dear," which Aziraphale used for Crowley as often as Crowley used "angel" for Aziraphale.
> 
> Unfortunately, Gabriel had never read _The Nice and Accurate Prophecies_ by Agnes Nutter. He had never read a book, period.
> 
> He thought as quickly as he could.
> 
> _Sunshine... Dearheart... Love... Baby... Darling... Sweetheart..._
> 
> Then Gabriel remembered that he loved cruel irony. [ return to text ]
> 
> 16 Footnote: The Victoria and Albert Café's menu selection included poached salmon fillet, portobello mushrooms, lemon and poppyseed cakes, raspberry and white chocolate muffins, clotted cream scones, hot cocoa, fives types of coffee and over seven blends of tea. All things that Crowley knew Aziraphale liked. [ return to text ]
> 
> 17 Footnote: In the past, Aziraphale--the _real_ Aziraphale--had silently speculated whether or not the Bentley was in any way sentient. He had reasons not to directly ask Crowley. From Aziraphale's point of view, he felt like the car tried to play music that fit any given situation. Or as if it was trying to send Crowley a message that he never quite took. Ironic music choice, that's what it was. And the Bentley seemed to do it to a wary, suspicious, dubious, almost _friendship-ruining_ degree.
> 
> The car having intelligence would have explained why the automobile kept playing Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy so often whenever Aziraphale--the _real, accept-no-substitutes_ Aziraphale--entered the car.
> 
> If Aziraphale's theory was true, then this was the point at which the car had twigged on and had started attempting to eject the impostor from the seats, through the sheer power of song. [ return to text ]
> 
> 18 Footnote: A weathered, altered copy of the statue resided in the Uffizi Museum in Tuscany, Italy. Many art critics had described the remake as "unfairly neglected by time" and a "somewhat lifeless replica," hoping to find the original. But alas, after centuries of searching, the populace of the art world came to the conclusion that the original was lost. [ return to text ]
> 
> 19 Footnote: The correct answer to Crowley's "Remind you of anywhere?" would have been a very specific place. If you knew what to look for, most of the art kept in Crowley's flat was a reminder of his past. The eagle statue he salvaged from the Blitz. The vase he drank from in Rome. The framed Leonardo da Vinci was an original he bought from the artist himself, just after he finished his sketch of Crowley sitting with Aziraphale.
> 
> There was a certain recurring motif, which was why the gold-legged tables had intricate reliefs of angels next to snakes. Crowley probably would have denied this motif if asked. Sentiment was not a positive quality in a demon.
> 
> The plants were his crown jewel, as they were a reminder of his first moment with Aziraphale. [ return to text ]
> 
> 20 Footnote: It had been designed to look like a normal wall, which gave a more dramatic flair to the flat.
> 
> Crowley may or may not have accidentally forgotten about the door and leaned his hand on it at one point. Fortunately, no one else had been with him. [ return to text ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Illustration by Katy133: [Raphael Statue](https://www.deviantart.com/katy133/art/Chapter-2-Raphael-Statue-824881690)  
> Illustration by Mistical52: [Crowley's Housplants](https://misti-art.tumblr.com/post/190300698615/i-teamed-up-with-katy133-for-a-good-omens-big)


	3. Crowley POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I planned on this chapter being in Gabriel's point-of-view, but it kept shifting to Crowley's POV, so I decided to stop fighting it, and changed it all to Crowley's POV.

_MONDAY - 5 Days Till Armageddon_

Crowley's senses slowly came back to him.

White tiles... blue in the distance...

He flicked out his tongue. The smell of air conditioning... He preferred fresh air to canned air.

 _So this was how Heaven looked these days?_ thought Crowley. It was a lot less grubby than Hell. A bit too much so. It was harshly sterile. _No wonder Aziraphale preferred the bookshop._

Crowley was sitting down. He tried to straighten his posture, but found that there were ropes pinning his wrists to the arms of the chair he sat in.

The sound of shoes tapping as someone walked up behind him. Uh-oh.

"Finally! You're awake."

It was Aziraphale's voice.

Correction. It was Aziraphale's voice box. Being used by the wrong person.

Gabriel. What a dirty trick.

The Archangel walked into Crowley's line of sight, his hands behind his back and his head held high in a self-important manner that Aziraphale never seemed to show.

Gabriel was back to wearing Aziraphale's camelskin coat. This struck Crowley as almost being funny. Because it meant that at some point, while he was out like a light, possibly lying on the floor, possibly unable to breathe, Gabriel took the time to walk over to the closet in Crowley's flat, retrieve the coat, and put it back on, before continuing his kidnapping. For a fraction of a second, Crowley wanted to laugh out of some low-level hysteria.

Or maybe Gabriel used a miracle to retrieve another coat. Who could say?

Crowley looked back down at his bonds. He gave a few tugs, but nothing loosened.

"Really? An office chair? No throne?" said Crowley dryly. "If you're gonna kidnap the First Tempter, at _the very least_ , give me a Muskoka chair." As the words left his lips, he wondered what the cost of his joke was going to be.

"You're lucky you're even given a chair, serpent," Gabriel shot back with little effort. "You should be so low, you'd be _eating dirt_."

That was a cheap shot.[21]

Well. The good news was that Aziraphale was not angry with him. The bad news was everything else.

From the corner of his eye, Crowley saw that the rod was lying nearby, propped up against a desk. The solid gold plaque on it read GABRIEL in large letters. There was also an hourglass counting down. Counting down to what, Crowley didn't know. His own demise?

Crowley looked back at the Aziraphale-who-was-not-Aziraphale.

The smile that outshone the morning sun was gone. Aziraphale's light, curly hair. His shining blue eyes. His rounded nose. His soft voice. Gabriel had taken all these things and possessed them as an offencive, loathsome parody of the original. It drove Crowley mad.

His hands clenched into fists against the ropes.

Gabriel had stolen Aziraphale's _skin_ , and it was making Crowley feel sick.

The doppelgänger began to speak. "Heaven has reason to believe that you have been trying to corrupt the Principality, Aziraphale. You've been having little meetings with him, haven't you?"

"I... Aziraphale hasn't done anything." Denying everything felt like a good strategy.

Gabriel bent down lower, casting a shadow over the demon. "We have some very incriminating evidence. We have _photos_. We have Aziraphale's testament."

"'Testament?' From Aziraphale? Now I _know_ you're lying to me," the demon spoke with a weak chuckle.

They knew. Heaven _knew_. The implications of this started to fully sink into Crowley. Was Aziraphale safe?

"First some questions," said Gabriel. "What information have you extracted from Aziraphale?"

Crowley didn't much like how Gabriel pronounced Aziraphale's name. Stressing the last syllable as _fail_ instead of _fell_.

"I haven't 'extracted' anything."

Gabriel scoffed. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

Crowley didn't trust himself enough to open his mouth.

Gabriel leaned forward, blue eyes darkening. "What did you learn about Heaven?"

"Nothing." Crowley was close to saying something else, along the lines of, _"That it's full of pricks,"_ but he held his tongue.

Gabriel shrugged. "Well, if you're not trying to get information about Heaven for Hell, then you must be trying to take Aziraphale away from Heaven. To make him Fall?" He made a tutting noise. "Tempting an angel? Did you really think Aziraphale would betray Heaven for an incubus?"

The demon's mouth went dry. "You... You think I've been _seducing_ Aziraphale?!"

Crowley was a romantic. He would never admit it out loud, but he was. Utterly, hopelessly, _helplessly_ in love.

He had been pining for Aziraphale for years--If he was completely honest with himself, he had been pining for six thousand years, when Aziraphale confided to him that the angel had given away his flaming sword to help the two humans who had been cast out of the Garden.

Anthony J. Crowley longed to tangle his hands through Aziraphale's hair. To hold him in a tender embrace. To tell him how much Aziraphale meant to him. To protect the angel whenever he was in danger.

But Crowley took great care in respecting the angel's boundaries.

_"You go too fast for me, Crowley."_

The demon refused to go further until Aziraphale was ready.

The idea that someone thought Crowley was only after Aziraphale for sex, but also doing it to try and _manipulate_ Aziraphale...

Suddenly, Crowley became quite angry.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he said through his teeth.

"You _slithered_ out of the ground and tried to coil around his heart."

"You went almost poetic there. _Almost_." Crowley could hear the venom in his own voice.

Gabriel looked like he very much wanted to smack the grin off Crowley's face. But instead, he took a deep breath.

" _Worming_ your way into his affections, pretending that you _care_ about him," said the Archangel. "I could almost commend your dedication. Keeping up the pretence for six thousand years. Fortunately, Heaven discovered your plans."

"Lying to someone for _six millennium?_ You're mad if you think _anyone_ would do that."

"The Fallen are incapable of loving anything."

"You're wrong. Demons can love," Crowley heard someone say. Then he realised to his horror that the voice was his own.

Gabriel closed his eyes like it was the wrong answer.

"Listen to me." He spoke like he realised that the demon was either stupid, or had gone mad, and therefore needed to be given the next piece of information as gently as possible. "What you're feeling, if you're feeling anything, is _lust_. It's a demon feeling, invented by demons. I don't pretend to understand it, but I suppose demons are drawn to the things they can't have."

"Lust is a _human_ invention, not a demonic one, and trust me, that's absolutely not what I'm feeling."

"Trust _you?_ I don't think you quite understand how this works." He began to pace. "Aziraphale, although not an Archangel, is going to be leading an entire platoon of angels. It's part of the Great Plan."

Crowley was quiet. He glanced at the floor.

"He would have been in perfect condition for the War... but then you came along."

Crowley looked up.

"You've corrupted him. You're trying to get him to Fall."

This wasn't what Crowley had been planning at all, but there was no use in trying to explain _that_ to Gabriel.

Crowley's heart sank. He realised that unless he somehow found a way to get out of this mess, he was doomed. But he could still save Aziraphale. At least one of them could make it out of all this.

"Okay, cards on the table," said Crowley with a shrug. His voice was lively now. "You got me. I _was_ trying to get Aziraphale to join the dark side." Crowley suddenly pictured swords made out of red light and almost laughed. "Oh, how I tried. But it looks like you caught me before I could."

"Yes, it seems so." Gabriel paused. "But..."

"'But?'"

"How do you solve a problem like Aziraphale?" Gabriel said, almost singing the words.

"What?" said Crowley flatly.

Gabriel, with his stolen voice, spoke in a tone that was soft and calm and utterly in control.

"It's a love triangle. Three sides, when there should be two. Three points. Heaven. Aziraphale. Crowley." Gabriel's smile became genuine, which made things even worse. "How do you fix a love triangle? It's quite simple, really. It's basic math. You simply delete the hypotenuse."

Ah. Well, that went without saying, Crowley thought bitterly. Angels thwart demons' wiles. And after all, Gabriel struck Crowley as the sort of angel who did a lot more smiting than was strictly necessary.

Gabriel continued.

"But even after I've destroyed you, you'll have given me a new problem." Gabriel gave a false smile. "Thanks for that, by the way."

"No problem," said Crowley, grinning back.

Gabriel frowned and started to pace again. The angelic copper shoes going _click-clack, click-clack_.

"I'll be left with a half-corrupted angel that I'll have to somehow turn into a lean, mean, fighting machine by Saturday."

The words _reprogramme_ and _control_ crept into Crowley's mind and he became more determined than ever to stop Gabriel from doing whatever he planned on doing to Aziraphale. He tugged against the rope around his wrists, almost automatically.

Crowley would need to find some way out. He would need to escape. And then he would go find Aziraphale. He just needed to figure out _how_.

Crowley had to ask. But he knew that if he worded it too sympathetically, Heaven might use it against both himself and the angel. It was of the utmost importance that he sounded detached. "And what will be done about Aziraphale?"

Gabriel didn't answer. The bastard.

The Archangel simply looked down to an area of space that was about five feet in front of Crowley. The demon followed his gaze.

Crowley saw a chair facing directly opposite him. A bucket sat next to it. He was sure that neither the chair nor the bucket were there last he checked. That was because they weren't.

The bucket was filled with water. Crowley's stomach dropped. He didn't need to ask what kind of water it was.

Gabriel, with the calmness of someone who was about to continue their quiet evening of light reading, removed a cloth from Aziraphale's coat pocket, and a sword from seemingly out of nowhere.

He placed the cloth, balled up in his hand, into the bucket, to let it soak. He pulled it out. Crowley felt like this was taking an eternity.

The archangel sat down in the chair next to the bucket. Propping his left foot up to his other leg, he cradled the longsword in his lap, holding it by its handle. The soaked cloth was in his other hand, and he pressed it up against the blade...

Gabriel started coating the sword with holy water.

And suddenly, Crowley felt very alone and very frightened.

* * *

**Footnotes:**

> 21 Footnote: _"And the Lord God said unto the serpent, Because thou hast done this, thou art cursed; upon thy belly shalt thou go, and dirt shalt thou eat all the days of thy life,"_ read Aziraphale one evening to Crowley back in 1651.
> 
> Aziraphale looked up from the book when Crowley spoke. "Seems a bit unfair to snakes, if you ask me."
> 
> "D-Do you want me to remove that bit?" asked Aziraphale.
> 
> "No."
> 
> "Oh."
> 
> He continued reading.
> 
> They were sitting in a private study in a rich family's household Aziraphale and Crowley had both been invited to--separately, as the household did not even know that they knew each other--helping themselves to bread, cheese, and wine. By the flickering light of the fireplace, the angel was reading aloud a draft of what would eventually be known by rare book dealers everywhere as the _Buggre Alle This Bible,_ an error-filled copy of the Bible by the London publishing firm of Bilton and Scaggs. Aziraphale had acquired a copy of the manuscript in the hopes of "helping" to edit the book.
> 
> Not helping to fix the typos, mind you. Aziraphale loved collecting Bibles with unique mistakes and human flaws. No, what he wanted to desperately do was to edit out the last three lines from the third chapter of Genesis. Just three little lines.
> 
> "In other words, you want to delete the bit about _you_ losing the flaming sword," Crowley had said with a smile.
> 
> "Well, it's not that important for people to have to _read_ about it. I'll just be omitting unnecessary details. No harm in that," he argued.
> 
> Crowley smiled and said nothing.
> 
> And so, the following three lines were removed:
> 
> _25\. And the Lord spake unto the Angel that guarded the Eastern Gate, saying Where is the flaming sword I gave you, to guard the Gate of Eden?_
> 
> _26\. And the Angel said Sword? Right. Big, sharp, cutty thing. Yes. Oh, must have put it down here some where. Forget my own head next._
> 
> _27\. And the Lord did not ask him again._
> 
> [ return to text ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Illustration by Katy133: [Crowley Wakes in a Chair](https://www.deviantart.com/katy133/art/Chapter-3-Crowley-Wakes-in-a-Chair-824882262)  
> Illustration by FluffleDuffel: [Demons Love](https://www.deviantart.com/unseenrangergal/art/GOBB-Demons-Love-827029514)


	4. Aziraphale POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monty Python voice: And now for something completely different...

Aziraphale hiked through the orange and crimson sandstone mountains of Arizona. He had found a sturdy branch and was using it as a walking stick. Despite the heat, he had kept his coat on.

He hadn't been to America in quite a while, but he knew what he had to do here.[22]

The angel looked down at the sand beneath his shoes. They were almost the same copper colour.

Travel has a way of distancing oneself from one's problems. It gave one a new perspective of everything.

 _"Him,_ liking _you? Please."_

Gabriel's words echoed through Aziraphale's memory as the angel hiked forward.

 _"It wasn't because you were outstanding, Aziraphale. It was because you were_ there _."_

Gabriel had been _wrong_. The flaw in Gabriel's reasoning was that one could still be familiar with someone and _still dislike them_.

Which meant that _something_ kept drawing Crowley to Aziraphale. And, if Aziraphale was honest with himself, something kept drawing _him_ to Crowley.

The angel looked around, the heat causing the horizon to shimmer. Everywhere, he was surrounded by shades of copper, black, and red. It was from the stones of the cliffs and mountains. The world was encircling him with colours that made him think of Crowley, and yet Crowley was so, so far from here. It was like he was being taunted.

_"Water, water, everywhere, yet not a drop to drink."_

The Principality kept walking.

* * *

There are many bridges to Heaven, and they could be found all over the Earth, if one knew where to look.

Sedona, Arizona was known for its spiritual locations and its inspiring beauty. It drew hikers and the New Age tourist industry like a moth to a flame. But there was one particular spot in Sedona that Aziraphale was looking for. One that wasn't marked by any signposts.

He was alone now. The tourists and backpackers and cars were nowhere to be seen.

Teleportation to Heaven was tricky business for a Principality. One had to do it in a specific way, or risk getting their corporation vapourised.

Firstly, one needed to find a gate.

Fortunately, Gabriel had picked Arizona. Gabriel seemed to like American things, thought Aziraphale. Perhaps it was from watching _The Sound of Music_.

As well as books on the subject, Aziraphale was interested in places that were said to be of occult significance. It was for that reason that Aziraphale secretly had an unfulfilled dream to buy a cottage in South Downs.[23]

The gate. He needed to _find it_.

The angel was very worried. Mainly about Crowley.

Aziraphale glanced around, saw that there was no one there, and then looked up at the sky.

He spread out his wings, and launched himself upwards, hoping that nobody below would spot him so long as he kept his distance from the ground.[24]

Aziraphale soared through the air, feeling the wind rush through his feathers, clothes, and hair.

After a stretch of time had passed, he eventually found the cliff face he had been looking for.

He swooped down to land.

* * *

The striped sandstone cliff had an entranceway that a person would only find if they were specifically looking for it.

Aziraphale entered and found himself inside a cave. It was refreshingly cooler than the intense heat outside.

"Oh, at _last_ ," said Aziraphale, dropping his walking stick to the side. He walked over to the round platform at the back of the cavern. The platform looked a bit like a really wide tree stump, or a stalagmite that had been cut down, but the angel recognised it as a gateway, ready to be opened.

Aziraphale stood very still, closed his eyes, placed the palms of his hands together, and said the magic words that he always used when he wanted to create a bridge.

Nothing happened.

 _Did I say the words wrong?_ thought Aziraphale. _No, no. It was all correct._

And then he felt a sinking sensation. Perhaps this gate required a different incantation.

Aziraphale leaned his head against the cave wall in frustration. "No..."

The circle. He needed to get to the circle in his bookshop. But it was all the way in Soho, London. And he needed to get there _immediately_.

Crowley was in trouble.[25] Who _knew_ what Gabriel was up to.

Aziraphale came to a moral crossroad. What would he need to do once he got back? He may have to confront Heaven--Or at the very least, confront Gabriel. How far did his love for Crowley really go? Would Aziraphale be willing to give up _everything_ for the demon's safety? And then he came to a realisation.

He had already made his choice quite some time ago.

Aziraphale, hoping for a miracle, reached into his pocket and found a plane ticket.

* * *

Epsilon Airlines was going through a bit of a personal crisis. A nasty rumour was floating around: That the flight was going to arrive on time.

This had never happened before in its ninety years of service. As its founder, Major Buster Duster said back in 1929, "Our aircrafts are like the hero in a melodrama--They always come upon the scene just, and only just, in the nick of time. It is Providence, that's what it is."[26]

It turned out that the rumour had been false. The plane wasn't on time. It was early. By ten hours.[27]

The flight in question was the EAL1 from Sedona to London.

Before takeoff, it is standard procedure for the captain to sign a flight release form, a document saying that the crew is fit, that they know what they're doing, and that they will arrive on time to the best of their abilities, making sure to send hourly updates to traffic control on their location.

But that was merely a formality. Punctuality was hoped for rather than received on Epsilon Airlines.

Captain Claire Fortayoff was perplexed. She had prepared the flight to be about ten hours long, but somehow, against all logic, the flight had been noticeably shorter. Within ten minutes, there was London, peeking and waving moodily behind the clouds.

The captain turned to her co-pilot, Steward Ess, who looked just as disoriented. In all his years in the air, he'd never experienced something quite like this before.

Mr. Stanley Buye,[28] who was working as Epsilon Airlines's air traffic control, blinked in confusion at his wristwatch. Then, thinking his watch must have been broken, looked up at the clock in the control room. He continued blinking.

The aeroplane used for flight EAL1 was an Airbus A330. It was a rather large twin jet airliner, built to hold three hundred passengers and a crew. After takeoff, it would usually travel at about five hundred miles per hour.

For today's flight to have happened the way it had, the plane would have needed to have travelled five hundred miles per _second_ \--which of course, as Stanley knew, was impossible.

How could this have happened?

Passenger May Day looked out the plane's window. England already? She felt rather put out. The woman had barely finished the first chapter of the thick romance novel she had bought at the airport. May felt like her holiday had ended far too early.

Aziraphale relaxed into his seat and happily finished his complementary thimble of wine. It was the same deep red as Crowley's jacket collar.

* * *

**Footnotes:**

> 22 Footnote: The last time Aziraphale had travelled through America, he had been hotel surfing across the States under less than ideal circumstances. The angel had discovered news that Crowley was in a spot of trouble with a televangelist in Ohio. Unfortunately, Aziraphale was in New York at the time, and all flights had been fully booked.
> 
> So he packed a suitcase and travelled with borrowed cars, his feet, and--when no one else was looking--with his wings, stopping only to rest at hotels.
> 
> A thing Aziraphale had noticed about hotels in America during the 1980s was that the television was always left on in the bedroom.
> 
> He also noticed that the same film was always playing. It must have been a unique channel that all hotels in the States had. The film in question was not one that Aziraphale wanted to see, _and_ he needed to rest, so he'd go through the process of looking around for the remote.
> 
> This was a process that he had to do for each hotel he visited.
> 
> He ended up watching the entirety of the film in the two-minute increments that he'd get while fumbling with the remote controller to turn of the television.
> 
> Eventually, he found Crowley. [ return to text ]
> 
> 23 Footnote for Americans, Canadians, and other strange lifeforms: South Downs is a seaside area in south-east England, made of chalk cliff faces, grassy hills, and of course, the kind of cottages that Aziraphale dreamed of living in.
> 
> Aziraphale would eventually co-purchase a cottage in South Downs, but let's not put the cart before the horse. [ return to text ]
> 
> 24 Footnote: He in fact _had_ been spotted. By a local birdwatcher. Fortunately, the sighting would not so much as be added as a footnote in _New Aquarian_. [ return to text ]
> 
> 25 Footnote: On top of everything else, Crowley had never been very good at fighting. To quote the song, he was a lover, not a fighter. [ return to text ]
> 
> 26 Footnote: In order to properly picture Major Buster Duster, it is imperative to remember that he had a large, bouffant moustache. The Major was a man with an upper lip that was not to be trifled with. [ return to text ]
> 
> 27 Footnote: It had actually been nine hours and fifty minutes early, but let's ignore trivialities. [ return to text ]
> 
> 28 Footnote: His friends called him Stan. [ return to text ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit goes to Cheese and Rokikurama from the Good Omens Big Bang Discord server for helping me come up with punny names for this chapter.
> 
> Also, I ended up going on a Wiki Walk while researching aeroplanes.
> 
> Illustrations by Katy133: [Aziraphale in Sedona](https://www.deviantart.com/katy133/art/Chapter-4-Aziraphale-in-Sedona-824883292)


	5. Gabriel POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually refreshed my studies on gaslighting and imbalanced relationships for this fic. But I think you can tell, can't you?
> 
> Thank you to robynthemagpie on Discord for helping me brainstorm for this last chapter as a storycoach.

Say you need to slay a monster. Any monster. How would you go about it?

Do you kill it quickly? Well, yeah. Of course. Makes sense. Get it over and done with so you can continue running things like normal.

But...

But what if you hate this monster. Really _hate_ this monster? Maybe this monster took something of yours away from you. Well then, you want the thing to suffer, right? You want to draw things out. You want to show it who's boss. You want to tear him apart, scale by scale and let it all sink in slowly and painfully. You don't just want to discorporate him, you want to destroy him until there's _nothing left_.

Gabriel was coating his sword with holy water, and he planned on taking his sweet time with it. And the serpent was going to watch.

If asked, Gabriel would have said that angels don't _really_ feel hatred. Whatever it was he felt, it was part of a grand design. Angels were meant to smite, so why not feel _motivated_ to smite?

The room had grown quiet, with just the sound of the cloth shining the sword's blade echoing through the room.

"Aziraphale could have been perfect," Gabriel said quietly, his expression set and stern, sculpted by the fury of the demon's misdeeds. "He talked too much, but..."

The Archangel heard a scoff, but Gabriel's eyes were fixed on the sword he was cleaning. He didn't want to to look at the demon. "He was obedient, and unquestioning, and could have been _perfect_... but then you made him betray his own side."

* * *

Gabriel placed the cloth in the bucket. He finally looked up. The demon said nothing, but his serpent eyes kept glancing at the longsword.

"Let me explain what's going to happen, demon," said Gabriel, lifting up the sword and admiring his work. "I'm going to kill you for the damage you've caused. When I'm through with you, there won't be anything left."

Gabriel could see his reflection--his true reflection--in the sword's blade. He admired his violet eyes. He thought his eyes were very unique and striking. That was why he picked them.

He continued talking. "And when I'm done, I'm going back to your little home and I'm going to take that pair of sunglasses you left."[29]

The fiend mumbled something under his breath.

"What was that?" said Gabriel. "I didn't hear you."

"It's not a home," the demon said quietly.

Gabriel shrugged. "I'll take a pair of your sunglasses and give them to Aziraphale."

The demon looked up at that, his face a mixture of confusion and anger.

"I'll hand him the sunglasses, and tell him that you're gone." The snake started struggling with the ropes again. He didn't seem to be fully aware that he was pulling at them. "Aziraphale will be so _thrilled_ when I tell him."

"No. No, he won't." The demon choked out the words.

Gabriel stood up. "Hmm. Shall I cut off your head, or go straight down the middle?"

"That's _morbid_ ," said the demon.

"It's _practical_ to think about these things. Tell me. How does it feel to know that you're about to go extinct? By someone who looks like Aziraphale."

The demon said nothing. His face looked blank, like he was trying to refuse any satisfaction from Gabriel.

"Nothing to say, snake boy?"

He didn't rise to that. Gabriel was almost disappointed.

"I'd give you one last chance to release Aziraphale from your sway," said Gabriel, "but I have a feeling I know what your reply would be. So. Any last words?"

The demon looked at him with burning eyes. They had completely lost their white. He spoke. "In the words of Aziraphale, _'Go and boil your head!'_ "

The sentence didn't make sense to Gabriel, but he didn't care. He was about to defeat the First Tempter.

"You will be cut asunder," the Archangel said.

Gabriel grasped his longsword in both his hands, raising it above his head. He paused, simply because he could. "And he shall smite the wicked, as it is Her will."

The demon's eyes widened in fear.

With a heavy swing, Gabriel brought his sword down.

As he did, several things happened at once.

The demon, quick like a viper, transformed into a snake, the binds of the chair falling uselessly on the ground.

He sprung out of the seat and onto the floor with a sound like a sack of flour hitting kitchen tiles. The serpent was now the size of a python.

A door opened with a tiny _click_. It was too quiet for anyone to hear.

The sword connected... with the chair.

Gabriel blinked. "Damn you." He looked at the sword embedded in the office chair's upholstery. Foam insides were spilling out. "That was a very nice chair."

"I've sssseen better," hissed the serpent. "Remember my flat?"

Gabriel stepped forward towards the snake. The demon slithered back, trying to gather up his coils together, trying to hide his vulnerable, crimson stomach. He hissed defensively, baring his fangs.

Gabriel lifted the sword above himself once more. No more prolonging. He was putting an end to this.

He swung down the blade blurring through the air in one swift motion.

_CLACK!_

Something blocked Gabriel's strike. A rod. The one he left by his desk.

He looked down at the kneeling person who was wielding it.

Aziraphale.

 _What was_ he _doing here?_

Gabriel was utterly gobsmacked. They stood like that for a long moment, with Aziraphale kneeling with the snake-catcher above his head, and Gabriel pressing his sword upon it.

This was not good.

"Aziraphale!" gushed Gabriel, going back to a smile, teeth clenched. "What are _you_ doing here?"

For a second, Aziraphale had an expression like a deer caught in headlights. This calmed Gabriel a little.

The serpent squirmed, cowering behind Aziraphale. _Using_ Aziraphale like a shield.

"Why are you protecting him?"

Aziraphale sighed. "Old habits die hard, I suppose."

The implications to that were not lost on Gabriel.

"So," Aziraphale said, eyeing him, "you used one of my corporations."

"Clever, wasn't it? I had him completely fooled."

For a moment, it looked like Aziraphale wanted to turn around and look at the demon's expression. He couldn't however, because he was still putting effort into blocking Gabriel's weapon.

The sword was coated in holy water. He just needed to strike the demon. _He just needed one strike._

Gabriel lifted up the sword, removing the pressure. "Step aside," he said.

"No."

"Do _you_ really want to do this?" Gabriel had to hold back a chuckle. When was the last time the angel had held a weapon?

Aziraphale kept the rod in his hands. He placed his feet apart, into a fighting stance.

 _Alright then,_ thought Gabriel. _I'll humour you. I'll go easy on you though. Wouldn't want you to get seriously hurt before the War._

"Fine. If you want to be an idiot, Aziraphale..."

Gabriel tried out a simple swing, trying to knock Aziraphale's improvised weapon out of his hands.

Aziraphale parried it, forcing Gabriel to move away. The archangel felt a jab in his middle, letting out a gasp. Aziraphale had _poked him in the stomach_ with the rod.

Gabriel tried again, but the same sequence happened.

Staffs were surprisingly good against swords.

Gabriel, being in his current corporation, did not like being as short as he currently was. It was only a few inches shorter than his usual height, but it seemed to affect his reach. Meanwhile, Aziraphale's snake-catcher was longer than Gabriel's longsword.

The business end of the rod was also something to consider. It would be rather embarrassing to get caught in your own trapping device.

There was a powerful swing towards Gabriel's head.

Gabriel wasn't used to seeing this side of Aziraphale. Gabriel knew that the Principality had wielded a sword during the first Battle,[30] but Gabriel had never seen Aziraphale in action.

Standing there, with a rod in front of him, the demon cowering behind him, and the model of the globe behind the demon, it looked, from Gabriel's point of view, like some sort of Renaissance painting from the Victoria and Albert Museum.

_It was like the rod had become his sword... and the serpent a man... It felt like Gabriel's disguise was shattered... But none of it was true..._

It made the whole situation look like Aziraphale was not only protecting the demon, but also protecting the globe.

He was protecting the world.

No. He was trying to protect _his_ world.

What utter nonsense.

"You're a disgrace," said Gabriel. "Do you know what will happen if you really decide to help a demon, idiot?"

"I am prepared to Fall if necessary," said Aziraphale, his voice cracking.

"Aziraphale, you don't know what you're saying. He's warped your mind."

"I think you know exactly why I'm choosing to do this," said Aziraphale slowly, choosing his words carefully.

And that was it. Gabriel couldn't deny it any more. Aziraphale really thought that he loved the serpent.[31]

"You were wrong about Crowley," said Aziraphale.

The serpent turned his scaly head at that. "What did he sssay to you?"

The words weren't repeated, but Gabriel remembered.

 _"He keeps coming back to you because he has_ no other alternative. _”_

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. He was smiling. "I was wrong?" he replied, in a tone of voice that was completely unconvinced of the Principality's statement.

Aziraphale briefly turned to look behind himself and gestured at the demon.

The serpent slithered closer and wrapped himself around Aziraphale. Black and red coils entwined over top his coat.

"Get away from him!" Gabriel yelled, rushing forward.

The snake ignored him, sliding up Aziraphale's chest, to gather around his shoulders.

Reaching a hand out, Gabriel grabbed the serpent by the neck, just below the head, and _pulled_. He hissed.

"No!" cried Aziraphale.

The serpent twisted and turned in the Archangel's grasp, trying desperately to escape. Gabriel held tight.

A sword in one hand and a snake in the other. Now he just had to--

Aziraphale roughly pushed the Archangel away, knocking the wind out of him.

Gabriel let go out of surprise. The demon fell to the ground.

Squirming and squirming and squirming...

It was like watching a curly signature wretchedly trying to tear itself off of a report file. Gabriel was sick of the fiend.

The demon changed back into his human shape. He scrambled back in the direction of Aziraphale, crawling on his elbows.

"No you don't!" Gabriel grabbed the fiend's leg, pulling him away from Aziraphale.[32] The smooth tile floor and the demon's light frame made it easy.

Once again, the Archangel was rushed by Aziraphale, they took a tumble to the floor.

Gabriel was spinning and couldn't see clearly as the room seemed to tumble with him, but he heard the clang of the sword falling away from him.

When the metaphorical dust settled, he was lying on the ground, next to Aziraphale. The angel no longer had the rod. It had slipped from his hands in the chaos.

They both got up. They both looked at the sword--much too far away to retrieve without some effort--and they both looked at the demon--standing next to the sword.

The demon looked at Gabriel and then at Aziraphale. The two of them were still wearing the same clothes and the same faces. The fiend continued glancing back and forth at them. Gabriel couldn't believe his luck. _He doesn't know who is who._

Gabriel realised that he could extract the ultimate punishment for both of them. If he could convince the demon to give the weapon to the wrong Aziraphale, not only would he seal his own doom, it would convince Aziraphale that the demon didn't truly know him that well.

He knew he could trick the fiend. Gabriel needed to tell the serpent what he wanted to hear.

"Ngk," said the demon.

"Crowley, it's me."

"No, Crowley. It's me, dear boy," said Aziraphale, his face becoming hardened.

The demon pulled out a black handkerchief and wrapped it around his hand. With the protected hand, he slowly picked up the sword. He looked at it as if he didn't know what it was for.

"Crowley," began Gabriel, "you _know_ me."

Gabriel was convinced that the First Tempter had seduced Aziraphale. It was the only explanation for the angel's betrayal. And the Archangel was going to use this information to win.

"You know everything about me," said Gabriel through the Principality's corporation. He tried to make his voice pleading. "You know exactly how to _enrapture_ me. You know every sound I make. Every quiver my body makes when you touch me. You _know_ me better than _anyone_."

The demon did not speak. Gabriel took that as a good thing. No objections from the fiend.

Aziraphale--the real, genuine article Aziraphale--glanced at Gabriel with a look like he was angry about something. He turned back to the demon.

"Crowley." Aziraphale had a stern expression. As if he wasn't afraid. "You know me."

Gabriel waited for more, but nothing else came. He frowned. _That was it?_ That was going to be his evidence to _his own identity?_

He really thought that six thousand years meant something. He was naïve.

"If you make the right choice," said Gabriel, "we can go to my bookshop. We can spend the rest of the evening together. You can _ravish_ me, and I'll kiss you as many times as you want."

The demon wouldn't resist something like that. Because he wouldn't _want_ to.

Surely.

There was a span of silence. The only moment Gabriel saw in the demon was him clenching his hand--the one that wasn't holding the sword. His right fist was slightly trembling. He was tense. He was thinking, Gabriel supposed. Demons must have been pretty stupid, to take this long to make a decision.

Gabriel wondered if he had said the right thing. That perhaps he had misread the relationship between Aziraphale and the Enemy. But he quickly reassured himself. There definitely was something going on between the two of them. They were Up To Something. Something worth hiding. Something worth going against Heaven for.

He could picture the scene quite easily. In the beginning, Aziraphale was lonely. The demon was _there_. He always was. The serpent saw a unique opportunity practically gift-wrapped for him. Gabriel imagined that the demon played his part as a lover well. He charmed Aziraphale, who was a pretty gullible angel. Probably thought the demon was just being nice...

And then the demon played the Long Game. Centuries of playing Aziraphale like a violin. And he, the idiot that he was, fell for it. He bet the serpent could have a silver tongue when he needed it. Feeding the angel honeyed phrases...

Gabriel wondered when they first kissed. The first time they did... other things. He would have liked to have known the precise date. Know _just_ how foolish the Principality was. The precise moment Aziraphale betrayed the Archangel. He would have liked to have known just how angry he should be.

Aziraphale should really be _thanking_ him. If Gabriel hadn't found out when he did...

The silence in the room lingered. _What was taking so long?_

Slowly, the demon started walking towards Gabriel.

He had picked wrong. The serpent had picked _him_. The fool.

 _"Crow_ ley!" smiled Gabriel, extending his arms out towards the demon. "I knew you'd be able to figure it out!"

The demon strode towards him, smiling. Not realising that he was walking towards his undoing.

Gabriel was so close to destroying him. He could hardly wait.

"Just give me the sword," said Gabriel, reaching out.

"Yeah, I'll give it to you..."

Something connected with Gabriel's jaw.[33]

It wasn't a very hard punch. It was pretty weak, in fact. But it took him by surprise. He stumbled back, regaining his balance.

"What?!" Gabriel gasped out.

" _That's_ for stealing his face," said the demon, nursing his fist as if it were bruising. "It took every bit of energy not to biff you immediately. That _'I know you, Crowley'_ rubbish. Then I realised, why hold back?"

Gabriel composed himself, standing up to his--or rather, Aziraphale's--full height once again. Despite this, he looked as his opponent with a mixture of anger and confusion. _How?_

"You can't trick a trickster," said the demon, checking his knuckles for marks. He turned and tossed the longsword to the real Aziraphale.

The fiend turned back to Gabriel. "Besides. You know _sod-all_ about Aziraphale! You've been sitting in your ivory tower for so long, you don't even know what Aziraphale's--."

"Shut. Your. Mouth. Demon." said Gabriel, punctuating each word.

Aziraphale held out the sword. "Gabriel, please let us leave. I am... I am prepared to take drastic actions if necessary..."

He placed his feet shoulder-length apart, once again into a fighting stance. The demon, seemingly automatically, quickly placed himself behind Aziraphale.

The angel's blue eyes burned with something. As if millennia-old layers of stone were being picked off, flake by flake, revealing something unexpected underneath. It was ancient, and charged, and angry.

Gabriel looked at the Principality. It suddenly dawned on him just how much he _really didn't know Aziraphale_. Gabriel was an Archangel. He _could_ fight him, but...

Whatever what in front of him _wasn't_ a moron who could be told what to do. What stood in front of him was _something dreadful_. What stood in front of Gabriel was a being that not only looked like someone who wanted Gabriel destroyed, but looked like they _were capable of doing so_.

Beneath the bowties and waistcoats and longcoats, there was something there that Gabriel didn't understand.

And he didn't want to find out.

Well, sometimes you had to make the executive decision and cut your losses...

"Fine. _Fine_. Just go. Abandon the War, Aziraphale. Abandon everything you stand for. And when _he_ leaves you, don't come crawling back to us."

* * *

_"I leave and heave a sigh and say goodbye."_   
_"Goodbye!"_   
_"I'm glad to go, I cannot tell a lie."_   
_"I flit, I float, I fleetly flee, I fly."_

Aziraphale and the demon left, side by side, out the door. Gabriel could have snapped his fingers to transport them, but that would have been too good for them. Let them take the stairs. They wanted to be human? Gabriel would treat them like humans.

Gabriel sat down at his desk, everything arranged perfectly on it.

* * *

The archangel didn't know exactly how much time had gone by, but on this very rare occasion, his curiosity got the better of him.

Gabriel reluctantly pulled out the Heaven Cam. _Heaven's camera_.

The one that took all those pictures of Aziraphale's clandestine meetings.

It was rather old. Six thousand years old, to be precise. It had white wooden panelling. The screen tinted everything a shade of off-blue. The picture quality, although was clear enough to identify people, was not in HD. There was no sound.

Gabriel watched as the traitor and the Enemy left the building through the front doors. Good riddance.

They walked to the pavement. The demon placed two fingers to his lips and blew. Gabriel didn't hear anything, but he knew it was a whistle. Like a dog, the demon's black chariot drove over to them. No doubt summoned.

They drove off, the moving camera's perspective had created the illusion that they were driving into the sunset.

Gabriel shut off the monitor in frustration. He would give them a day. That would be long enough for Aziraphale to realise what he's done. A day and it would all sink in. A day and _maybe_ Gabriel could bring himself to forgive him.

It would take some convincing--the other angels of Heaven would need convincing. But if Aziraphale _apologised_ enough. Told Gabriel that he would make it his mission to destroy the demon Crowley, Gabriel could convince the rest of the Heavenly Host that Aziraphale could come back to their side. Gabriel was _forgiving_ like that. He was an Archangel, after all.

* * *

_TUESDAY - 4 Days Till Armageddon_

It was morning. Out of a tainted curiosity, Gabriel opened up the Heaven Cam again.

The camera scanned for a moment, looking for Aziraphale. Gabriel tapped a finger rhythmically on the desk. This software really needed to get updated. This was a lot slower than his mobile phone.[34]

The camera eventually found the angel. The black chariot was stopping. The demon got out, walked to the passenger's side, and opened the door for Aziraphale.

Gabriel realised that the demon kept doing that--holding doors for Aziraphale--as if he thought himself to be some sort of _gentleman_. Ha.

Aziraphale was smiling. A bright, cheerful, thankful smile. But that was allowed. It would have been cruel if Gabriel had expected the traitor to be a sobbing mess. Even if Aziraphale had every right to feel sharp regret after yesterday's events.

The archangel continued to watch.

They walked through the grass. The invisible camera followed them to a duck pond. The two of them stopped next to the water's edge and began feeding the waterfowl. Again, that was _fine_. Ducks needed sustenance to live. That was all.

The demon removed his sunglasses. Aziraphale noticed and turned to look at him. Instead of reacting with disgust, he looked at the demon with a questioning expression. Again, that was fine. The Tempter didn't seem to like taking his shades off in public. Not when you had eyes like _that_. Of course Aziraphale was going to be confused. It was fine. Maybe Aziraphale would stare at those eyes long enough and become so repulsed, he would leave the park and promise to never associate with the demon ever again.

The serpent's mouth started to move. What he said, Gabriel couldn't hear. But after he finished, Aziraphale and the demon start laughing. They were all smiles now. Teeth shining. Smiling so brightly, the reflection could have caused a lens flare on the camera.

Of course, Gabriel would have liked to have known just what the fuck the two of them were so damn happy about.

If it was a joke, he would have liked to have heard it. He would be the judge of whether it was worth busting a gut over. Whether it was the kind of joke that would make an angel take a step closer towards a demon.

Gabriel watched in cold horror as Aziraphale draped his arm around the demon's shoulders. The demon looked as surprised as Gabriel. But Gabriel was alone, sitting in his office, a plane of existence away. So no one saw him.

The demon regained some composure, if composure was a thing that demons could have. He snaked a hand up, placing it around the angel's waist. The traitor turned to face him.

Aziraphale was in the demon's arms. _So what?_ thought Gabriel. _No need to panic, for God's sake._

The Principality--or perhaps _former_ Principality was a more appropriate title--began to speak. It was something quiet. His lips barely moved. Gabriel hoped it was something along the lines of, "Get away from me, foul fiend," or perhaps, "I was a fool. Gabriel was right all along."

The demon leaned closer. He brought his hands up to cup the angel's face. Was he _caressing_ the angel's cheeks?

Aziraphale tilted his head back. His eyes fluttered shut, as if getting ready for something.

That was when the demon leaned further and pressed his lips against Aziraphale's.

Gabriel had expected the day to go by differently. With sobs and yells and pleading and begging for forgiveness and, "Dry your eyes, Aziraphale. We'll forgive you," and everything being restored back to normal.

But now they were in an embrace. The fiend kissing Aziraphale with a tenderness Gabriel didn't think a demon was capable of. The angel relaxing his hands onto the lapels of the demon's jacket. The demon's fingers laced through Aziraphale's hair as he cradled the back of his neck.

Gabriel reflected, because he couldn't understand.

The demon Crowley was tall. Not as tall as Gabriel, but still taller than Aziraphale. Although Gabriel would never admit it, the demon was good-looking, in a snake-in-the-grass kind of way. He cared about his appearance. He wore designer sunglasses, and a designer button-up shirt, and a designer suit jacket. But Aziraphale liked tartan, and waistcoats, and pocket watches...

_Why, why, why..._

To Gabriel, love was an obligation. Love was smiling politely at strangers. It was helping elderly humans cross the street. It was helping injured doves in front of an audience. It was something that angels had that demons didn't. It was a form of measurement. _Look at us. We have something you don't have. We're on the Good side. We're on the side that will win the War_.

So then, _why_ did Aziraphale love Crowley?

Gabriel's own version of _The Sound of Music's_ Something Good played in his mind.

_"For there you are, standing there, loving him,"_   
_"Whether or not you should."_   
_"An unmapped stranger stands where you last stood,"_   
_"You once were Something Good."_   
_"Nothing comes from nothing,"_   
_"Nothing ever could."_

With a sigh of resignation, Gabriel, closed the monitor. Somehow, a few strands of his hair had fallen to his brow. It was only a few strands, but Gabriel's hair was so used to being perfectly immaculate, it gave him a look that was positively manic and dishevelled. He adjusted himself.

Aziraphale. The Principality. The traitor. The conundrum.

It was a minor loss in the Great Plan, now that he really thought about it.

They were going to win the War. With or without Aziraphale.

He looked at his desk's hourglass. The sands were running out for Earth. Armageddon was coming in a few short days. And there was nothing Aziraphale nor the demon could do about it.

Gabriel relaxed in his cloud-grey executive chair, thinking that he wouldn't have to deal with the two of them for quite a while.

He would be wrong.

The End.

* * *

**Footnotes:**

> 29 Footnote: The Archangel knew about sunglasses. He had become quite knowledgeable in clothing throughout the years. He particularly liked the suits. [ return to text ]
> 
> 30 Footnote: Not just any sword, but a flaming sword. Something Gabriel only wished he could have been assigned. Yes, Gabriel's longsword did indeed have a greater reach than Aziraphale's gladius, but nothing quite said, "This sword provides proper demon-smiting," like a sword encompassed in fire. [ return to text ]
> 
> 31 Footnote: Aziraphale had once tried to get Gabriel to share the angel's interest in books by showing him the definition of love--since angels were, they both agreed, beings of love.
> 
> It had failed to spark any enthusiasm--Gabriel had ended the conversation by telling Aziraphale to stop wasting his time with material objects--but the Archangel still remembered the moment.
> 
> The Merriam-Webster Dictionary described love as:
> 
> **Love**
> 
> _[luv] noun_
> 
> a warm attachment, enthusiasm, or devotion; an unselfish, loyal, and benevolent concern for the wellbeing of another.
> 
> The Collins English Dictionary used the following description:
> 
> **Love**
> 
> _[luv] noun_
> 
> a deep, tender, strong feeling of affection towards a person: an intense emotional bond.
> 
> The Oxford English Dictionary had this explanation:
> 
> **Love**
> 
> _[luv] noun_
> 
> an intense feeling of attachment felt by one person for another; intense liking and concern for another person.
> 
> _see also: true love_
> 
> In a way, Gabriel found this terminology almost _cute_. Humans were trying to assign words to something that they truly couldn't understand. Trying to tie a logic to something that was, by every definition, illogical. Because whatever humans felt wasn't really love.
> 
> They discovered something, called it _love,_ and wrote little descriptions for it. But as they walked through life, trying to avoid sin, trying to find purity, trying to ease their pain, at every turn, at every choice they made, they just proved how little they knew about this _thing_ that manifested inside them.
> 
> Every time he saw a human cry, mourn, flee, fight, kill for another human being, he was reminded just how stupid and gullible humans were.
> 
> Only angels knew what love truly was.
> 
> All angels, except for one Principality. He had been infected by humanity. [ return to text ]
> 
> 32 Footnote: It is taught in certain self-defence classes that one should never crawl away from an opponent whilst having one's chest and stomach facing the ground. It places one's back towards the attacker, making oneself vulnerable. You cannot see what's behind you, after all.
> 
> Crowley did not know this. If he had, the following events that are about to occur would likely not have happened...
> 
> He could have had his eyes on where Gabriel was... [ return to text ]
> 
> 33 Footnote: This is what Crowley would have referred to as "giving Gabriel a bunch of fives." Something that Crowley promised--both silently to himself and drunkenly aloud to Aziraphale--that he would do if ever given the chance. He didn't think he'd ever be given the opportunity to punch an Archangel and survive to tell the tale, but Crowley felt protective whenever Aziraphale talked about Gabriel's comments during evenings filled with comfy chairs and alcohol.
> 
> And after all, Crowley was a demon of his word. [ return to text ]
> 
> 34 Footnote: Like clothes, mobile phones and wheeled hoverboards were also welcomed in Heaven. Heaven had its own form of Wi-Fi--one that could not be demoniacally tampered with--and a phone plan that didn't include the World Wide Web. [ return to text ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this fic. Please leave a comment if you'd like to.
> 
> Illustrations by FluffleDuffel: [Before One Strikes](https://www.deviantart.com/unseenrangergal/art/GOBB-Before-One-Strikes-827029578) | [Into the Sunset](https://www.deviantart.com/unseenrangergal/art/GOBB-Into-the-Sunset-827029979)  
> Illustrations by Katy133: [Gabriel Fights Aziraphale](https://www.deviantart.com/katy133/art/Gabriel-Fights-Aziraphale-798728323) | [Gabriel and the Heaven Cam](https://www.deviantart.com/katy133/art/Chapter-5-Gabriel-and-the-Heaven-Cam-826219098)


End file.
